


The Afterlife

by Skyelocked



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angels, Angst, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Heaven, M/M, Winglock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 15:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1749323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyelocked/pseuds/Skyelocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson was a man who had brushed elbows with Death one too many times and so he wondered what actually happens after you die. Sherlock didn't know either. Until one day, their question would be answered indefinitely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Afterlife

Have you ever thought about what happens after you die? John Watson had. Multiple times. John Watson, the man who had endured an abusive father, getting shot in Afghanistan, and chasing criminals with a sociopath for the rush, was no stranger to brushing arms with Death. Yes, John Watson had often wondered what would happen in his posthumous life. Was there a heaven and hell? Is he to be reincarnated? Or does it all just slip into nothingness, darkness, forever. The problem with this question is that it would never be answered until it actually happened. John had asked Sherlock once out of curiosity to know what possible hypotheses the man would have on the subject. Sherlock dismissed the question with a slight flick of the hand, “John, after death our bodies begin to decompose, entering a state of...” and went on for another hour recapitulating in great detail the after-death process. The question did not arise again. Three weeks later, this question would finally have an answer.

John Watson lay in a dark and musty alley, knife wound bleeding excessively from the entrance at his lower abdomen. His attacker had run away, with a broken wrist as a memory from the army doctor. “Sh-sherlock.” He sputtered feebly, his normally bright blue eyes dimmed with fear and pain. A tall, coat-wearing figure rushed from around the corner. “John! John, stay with me. Lestrade will be here soon with an ambulance. Keep pressure on the wound!” He demanded, his normally flat baritone voice breaking with fear. “For God's sake I am a doctor, I know what to do!” John couldn't help but laugh pathetically but even he knew, logically, he was going to die. “Look Sherlock, if I don't..” “John, shut up. You're not going to die.” “No listen to me Sherlock.” He spoke very demandingly and Sherlock had no choice but to oblige as the look John was giving him was classified as the 'this is something very important so you need to stop talking and being a smartass for once' look. “If I die, I want you to eat regular meals and don't bark at Mrs. Hudson so harshly and give Lestrade a break from time to time. And also,” He coughed up a sizable amount of blood and gripped Sherlock's coat weakly to pull him closer. “know that you were loved. I have never felt before what I feel when we are running high on adrenalin, chasing murderers, watching crap telly, feeling your calm heartbeat at night against my own heart when you finally decide to settle in for the night, your untamable curls, just know that.” Sherlock shook his head roughly, his eyes feeling heavy. “No, John, I love you but this is not how this will happen. We will grow old together, joints completely wasted from all the times we narrowly escaped death, but this is not how it will end.” He cupped the older man's face in his hands gently. John drew in one last shaky breath, his eyes widening. “I always wondered what would happen after I die, unfortunately this is the only way to find out. I love you, Sherlock. Always have. Always will.” His smile faltered and his head fell back. Sherlock knelt there, motionless, his hands drenched in John's blood. The sounds of the sirens would not block out the sound of the blood rushing through his ears. For the first time in Sherlock's life, his mind went completely blank.

 

One year later, Sherlock Holmes stood at the edge of St. Bartholomew's rooftop. Moriarty watched intently behind him, his manic laughter filling Sherlock's eardrums. “Come on now Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade will die if you don't do this. Besides, John's already gone wouldn't this be the perfect ending? Die to protect the living and return into the arm's of the only person on this planet capable of loving you?” He snickered at the last part. “I will die content once I know you will harm no one else. Goodbye Moriarty.” Sherlock turned around and shot Moriarty point blank through the forehead then fell backwards off the top of the roof. His mind was racing a mile a minute, wondering what would happen after he hit the ground. Perhaps he would fall into the depths of hell for all the bad he had done in the world. Perhaps he would go to heaven for all the lives he had saved. Perhaps there was nothing. A glimmer of hope latched itself onto Sherlock's heart. His final thought would be, perhaps I might get John back. It was black. Pitch black. No light. Nothing. Sherlock felt an ounce of fear as he debated where he was. Surely he had hit the ground with dead precision and died right on the spot? A warm hand suddenly gripped his wrist and yanked him from the darkest depths into a blinding light. Sherlock gasped and stood up on wobbly knees, shielding his eyes from a very white light. “Sherlock.” The warm and comforting voice that undeniably sounded like John rang in his ears like a million bells. Sherlock looked around desperately for the source and lost his breath in the moment he looked forwards. There was John, his John, in all his former glory but with a new addition. A pair of golden wings sprouted from his back, radiating as brightly as the sun. He smiled that smile he only gave Sherlock and offered a hand. “Glad you finally joined me.” Sherlock reached out and touched John's hand and felt a jolt of electricity. His back arched and a pair of wings expanded from his back. He looked back at them, amazed. They were jet black with ends of shining silver, spanning at least 8 feet across. John chuckled, “Yeah, apparently that happens.” “How in the world..?” “Sherlock, I wouldn't even begin to try and explain how were here and what this place is. Can we just go home now? I missed you.” Sherlock let out a sigh and pulled John into his arms at last, inhaling his very familiar scent. “Let's go.” Their fingers interlaced and John lead Sherlock forward into an unfamiliar place, but in the distance, Sherlock could see a yellow smiley face. And for once, Sherlock Holmes was okay with not knowing the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is the first one I've written. Sorry it's so short but I hope you all enjoyed this ~ I'll have longer ones in the future! I've been wanting to read a fanfic about Sherlock and John in the afterlife for so long so I figured I may as well write one myself.


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